


with kisses on my mouth

by lvllns



Series: feathers and stone [6]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: But with Emotions, Oral Sex, Other, Pegging, a new fic comes along and says ding dong you are wrong, every time i think i've written the most explicit thing, okay well here we go i guess, there's no plot here just sex, this is just mason gets pegged the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvllns/pseuds/lvllns
Summary: “Okay?” Gravel has already started to settle on their tongue, at the back of their throat.He nods, roughly pushing his hair out of his face. “Yes. More.”It’s not begging but it’s really fucking close.
Relationships: Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), NB Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Series: feathers and stone [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756300
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	with kisses on my mouth

**Author's Note:**

> i had ["honey whiskey" by nothing but thieves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoK5BjlmGBY) on repeat the entire time i wrote this so. that's where the vibes come from. i will probably catch spelling and grammar errors after i post this but, like, i haven't had the inspiration to write anything for almost 2 months so i'll take this lmao

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Sparrow says as they look at everything laid out before them.

There’s Mason, shirtless with his hands behind his head. Stretched out on their bed, all lean muscle on display. Then there’s the harness and the lube and—

Well.

They swallow.

“Songbird, if you’re uncomfortable—“

“It’s not that.” They tilt their head, eyes dragging up and down his body before stopping to look him in the eyes. Their heart kicks up. Mason smirks. “We’ve talked about this, and I want to do it. I just...don’t want to hurt you. Or be, you know, bad.”

He sits up. Holds his hands out until they step close enough for him to curl his fingers along their hips, thumbs smoothing over the fabric of their shirt. “You trust me right?”

“With my life.”

As if that’s even a question at this point.

“Then trust that I’ll tell you if I want you to do something else or if something hurts.” He squeezes their waist. “And as for not being good,” he says with a salacious grin, “that’s what practice is for sweetheart.”

And then he leans up to kiss them.

Sparrow relaxes. Their hands come up to card through his hair, scratching at his scalp. Mason groans against their mouth. Swipes his tongue along their bottom lip until they open for him. They whine, a broken thing from the back of their throat that makes Mason pull away to chuckle before diving back in.

Before they realize it, they’re settled in his lap, arms loosely wound around his neck as he reclines against the headboard. He peppers kisses from their temple to their jaw, fleeting touches of his mouth that send sparks skittering across Sparrow’s skin. His teeth scrape along their neck, nipping at the base before he presses his lips to their throat and whispers, “Sparrow, I want you to fuck me.”

That still unfamiliar bolt of heat whips down their spine before settling between their legs. They shiver, mouth parting as they gasp and nod.

“Oh you like that huh?” Mason’s breath brushes against the thin skin behind their ear. His knuckles drag a slow, soothing path up and down their spine. “You wanna fuck me songbird?”

“Shit,” Sparrow chokes out. Their blunt nails scratch at his shoulders. “Yeah, I do. Fuck.”

He hums. Pulls back to rest their foreheads together. “What are you waiting for then?”

“My legs to start working mostly.”

Mason laughs. Leans into them, buries his face against their shoulder, and laughs. Sparrow chuckles and then snorts before pressing a quick kiss to his temple as they slip off his lap.

They tap his knee. “Strip sunshine.”

“Bossy, bossy,” he says with a grin.

They turn around to say something but Mason is already half out of his jeans, wiggling and kicking his legs and Sparrow’s mouth goes dry. He is unfairly pretty in the dim light of their bedroom. The glow from strands of faerie lights catches on his body, sweeping over skin and muscle and freckles. Highlighting his cheekbones, his jaw. When he twists to drop his jeans on the floor, the muscles of his back are illuminated, flexing and moving underneath his dark skin.

Sparrow hasn’t looked away or moved by the time he’s completely naked. Mason lifts a brow. He has to know what he does to them, they think. There’s no way he can’t hear the battering of their heart against their ribs. They shake their head, smiling softly before they turn to head to the bathroom.

Mason is sitting on the edge of the bed when they return, harness in his hands and eyes half-lidded. His tongue darts over his bottom lip. They watch, shamelessly, while they toss a towel on the bed and drop the condoms on their nightstand. He reaches out, splays one broad hand over their waist, and guides them closer to stand between his spread legs. Sparrow’s pulse jumps in their throat as he thumbs the head of the fake cock in his lap.

“You promise to tell me if any of this makes you uncomfortable?” Mason’s voice is soothing, low, and soft as he looks up at them. His pupils are blown wide already. Sparrow nods. “Good. I trust you too, you know. I just...wanted to double-check.” A grin, wide and sharp and weighted, and then he slides his hand under their shirt. “Your turn, sweetheart.” His voice has gone raspy, thick like honey, and he squeezes their side.

There is no grace to it. Sparrow all but rips their shirt off, chucking it somewhere behind them before shoving their leggings off just as quickly. Mason is chuckling even as he grabs them by the thighs and drags them back. They curl their fingers in his hair, one hand resting along the back of his skull. He leans forward. Mouths at their side, over their ribs. Nips and kisses, tongue and teeth, following an aimless path from freckle to freckle. Sparrow sways toward him, bending down to press their nose to the crown of his head. He hums. Digs his fingers into the meat of their thigh and bites just above their hip bone.

“Here,” Mason whispers into the skin that cloaks their ribs, “harness first.”

Sparrow grumbles before stepping away so they can step into the damn thing. They don’t want to separate from him, not right now. But his hands are warm on their body. Gentle, too. Fingers brushing theirs as they adjust the straps and check the fit. It’s not like this is the first time they’re wearing it, they tried it on after they bought it, but they just haven’t used it yet. It sits snug against their skin, avoiding the dermals that line their hip bones.

They move to take the dildo off the front but Mason bats their hand away and drags his tongue from base to tip.

“Oh.” Their voice comes out breathy and dazed. “Oh fuck.”

He looks up at them and winks before sliding the cock into his mouth. Sparrow tangles their hands in his hair. They watch his eyes flutter shut. His cheeks hollow as he pulls back. Their entire body heats up. A forest fire from cheeks to sternum. There’s a hand on their side, and on their thigh and they make some kind of garbled noise when Mason moves them closer. Lazily, his eyes blink open, thick lashes obscuring them a little, but Sparrow can’t find the brainpower to care. His nose is suddenly touching one of the straps against their waist and they shiver.

As quickly as he started, he pulls off with a wet pop. “You taste so much better.” A wild grin, crooked and salacious.

“I—“ Sparrow blinks. “Holy shit.” They drag their nails along his scalp until he presses into their touch with a quiet sigh. “I didn’t think I’d like that quite so much.”

Mason snorts as he removes the dildo and sets it on the side table. “Now you know why I lose it every time you decide to blow me.” A thumb trails over the inside of their elbow before stilling in the middle of their forearm. “Good?”

“Yeah, very.”

He flops back onto the bed, one leg hanging off the side so his toes brush against the hardwood floor. Sparrow takes a second to just look at him. Gaze catching on his chest and arms before skipping down to his hips. They step closer. Move to kneel on the bed between his legs. Immediately, his hands find their body, fingers curling around their ribs. His leg moves, lifts to cage Sparrow against him.

There’s a moment, a brief one, where they simply stare at each other, Mason’s thumbs smoothing over their skin while they hold onto his thighs.

And then they lean down to press their lips to his throat. He groans. Tilts his head back to give them more room. Sparrow nips and licks and kisses their way from the base to the hinge of his jaw, sucking a mark that will fade rapidly but it doesn’t matter. It’s still a visible reminder that they were there, however fleeting.

Mason’s fingers wind through their hair and he pulls them up. Crashes his mouth to theirs and slicks his tongue along their upper lip until Sparrow gasps and opens up for him. His other hand falls to rest on their waist. Low. Lower. He grabs their ass to hold them in place while he rocks up, hard against the inside of their thigh. They whine against his mouth, hips moving restlessly despite the harness being in the way.

“Fuck.” Sparrow pulls away with a gasp, hands resting on his chest. He blinks up at them, lazy and slow, eyes glazed and heavy with desire. It’s undignified, really, the way they almost fall off their bed to reach what they need.

The lube is dropped to the side and it rolls to knock against Mason’s thigh. He snorts. Sparrow licks across his chest as they tear one of the condoms open. He growls above them, low and deep in his chest, and they dot sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down his body. His chest heaves, ragged breaths rocking their descent. They bite at his hip bones. Soothe the sting with their tongue.

They slip the condom over their fingers while the lube is forcefully shoved into their other hand.

“Impatient?” Sparrow pants around the word.

Mason lifts his hips off the bed. “Very.”

“Oh.” They gesture behind him. “Pillow.”

He grunts. Blindly reaches around to find an acceptable pillow to shove under his hips. His eyes are black in the low light, not even a thin ring of silver visible. He reaches out slowly. Traces the line of Sparrow’s cheekbone with the pad of his index finger. It’s hardly a touch, the weight of it nothing. He lingers along their jaw, drifts to their lips, and presses his thumb to their mouth. They flick their tongue out, curling it around the digit before pressing a kiss to the tip.

Mason’s throat bobs as he swallows hard.

Sparrow grins against his hand before shifting back. Sliding away to better situate themself. And then they place their hand between his legs, low. He goes tense for a second, a ragged inhale shredding the quiet like pages torn from a book.

His cock twitches and they suck the head of it into their mouth while pressing the tip of their index finger into him.

Between the lube and the condom, Sparrow can’t really feel much aside from warmth and tight. Mason wiggles his hips though. Presses down and groans so they figure it must feel alright at the very least. They bob their head, up and down, settling into a rhythm that’s familiar by now. It’s a little odd, they admit in their head, exploring with their finger but Mason is making all kinds of little sounds, gasps and moans, broken things that Sparrow wants to piece together like a puzzle. When they look up, gaze skittering over his body until it reaches his face, he’s already staring down at them. Wide-eyed, hands clutching the sheets. They pull back, dragging their tongue along the underside of his cock before letting it fall from their mouth.

“Okay?” Gravel has already started to settle on their tongue, at the back of their throat.

He nods, roughly pushing his hair out of his face. “Yes. _More_.”

It’s not begging but it’s really fucking close.

A quick, soft kiss to the inside of his thigh. The muscles spasm, jerking and twitching. Sparrow shushes him, murmurs soothing nonsense against his skin until he melts into the bed once more. They twist their wrist, changing the angle of their finger, and curl it in a come hither motion.

Mason moans, back arching, and both hands lifting to tangle in his hair. They drag their finger over the same spot a few times, focused entirely on the way he writhes beneath them. His legs are shaking a little, hips shifting like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Can’t decide if he wants to thrust up into nothing or rock down on their finger. It’s a heady thing, seeing him like this and knowing it’s because of them.

Sparrow eases their finger from him, pressing apologetic kisses to his ribs. Sweat shines across his body, drawing their eyes to the sharp relief of his collarbones. They reach up and cup his jaw, fingers brushing against the stubble there. He turns. Presses a sloppy kiss to their palm. His eyes are glassy, unfocused. He opens his mouth, to say what they’ll never know because they press back into him with two fingers.

“Fuck.” Mason moans, head thrown back and neck on display.

They crawl up his body. It’s a bit of a reach for them to kiss the sweat-slick skin of his throat _and_ keep stretching him with their fingers, but they manage it. Somehow.

By the time they’re up to their second knuckle, he’s panting, arched up enough that only his hips and shoulders are touching the bed. They’re careful, more careful than they need to be probably considering the way he keeps asking for more, but they really don’t want to fuck this up. So, they twist their fingers. Push and pull and watch his face, his eyes fluttering and his throat bobbing as he swallows. Mason’s cock is hard against his stomach, twitching and leaking, and his legs have fallen wide open.

He’s a mess. Apollo reborn and drunk on lust. Affection spilling from his fingertips like red wine, smearing bruises over their skin where he holds tight. He is sunlight, warmth. Beautiful in the way he moves. There are rituals and offerings to be left at the altar of his body and they want to _give_. Give and give and give. Does that make them Hyacinthus then? An accidental death at their lover’s hand. A mistake made, then rectified to bring them back together. Stronger now, for what they’ve endured. A bond unbreakable, for the strength of it.

“Sparrow, Bird,” he mumbles, foot kicking weakly at their side. “If you—I’m gonna—”

They blink, not ceasing the movement of their hand. “Can you come like this?”

A laugh escapes him, though it breaks at the end when they crook their fingers and he moans. “It’s not a can, it’s a will if you keep going.” The words are spoken through grit teeth. “I’d like to last more than thirty seconds once you’re fucking me.”

“Mason!” They snort as he chuckles. Gently, they slip from his body. “You’re good?” He licks his top lip. Nods and pushes up onto his elbows. Sparrow smiles as they bend down to press their forehead to his.

A quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before they lean over his body. They notice, now, how hard they’re breathing. How their own skin shines with sweat. How their hands are shaking with a mix of anticipation and desire as they slide the condom off their fingers, and open the other to fit it over the dildo. They shuffle back, kneeling in the middle of their bed, as they attach it to the harness. Mason has rolled onto his side to better watch them with half-lidded eyes.

Sparrow scoots back even more. “Here, move...come here,” they say, making a grabby motion with their hands. He tilts his head but obliges, rolling over and shoving the pillow back under his hips once he’s far enough from the edge that they’re comfortable. “You were like, one wrong shift away from tumbling off the bed and I really don’t want to have to explain that injury to anyone.”

He laughs, throaty and deep. “I should have known you were gonna be fucking good with your hands.” Mason drops his eyes to where they’re holding his calf. “Damn musicians hands.”

“It’s the long fingers.”

“Yeah, those are real nice too.”

Both of them are chuckling as Sparrow moves between his legs. He lets his thighs fall open, staring up at them with a wicked smirk on his face. They slick more lube along the fake cock and remember, after all this, that they had grabbed a towel to lay down over their sheets. They exhale slowly through their nose, eyes shutting briefly, before they shake their head.

Mason seems to know exactly where their thoughts have gone because he says, “At least we pulled the comforter off.”

“Small miracles,” they grumble before moving closer, their body hovering over his. “Ready?”

“Sparrow,” he whispers against their cheek, “if you don’t fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll flip you over and do it my own damn self.”

Oh, that high pitched whine is actually coming from them. They feel their face flush, heat racing down their neck to settle across their chest. Red hot blood thrumming through their veins.

His brows lift. “Next time?”

They nod quickly and whisper, “Yeah, next time.”

And then they push into him. Slow, as slow as they can. One of Mason’s legs lifts, his thigh hooking around their waist. His cock jumps where it rests, his chest shaking as he takes unsteady breaths. Hands on their shoulders, fingers digging into their skin hard enough to leave marks. They figure out a rhythm after a moment, something that works for them both, and then their hips are flush with his.

They press a hand against his chest, fingers spreading through the soft hair that covers his body. He’s blinking up at them, eyes dark as night. Both of his hands clutch at their hips now, holding them against him.

Sparrow slants their mouth over his, sucking on his bottom lip, as they pull back. They bite down the same moment they thrust forward. Mason moans, the sound rolling over their tongue as they lick into his mouth to swallow it down. His touch falls until he’s grabbing their ass, rolling against them until they sync together.

It becomes a harried give and take quickly. His mouth is parted, lips grazing theirs as they bump noses. Too much to kiss right now, every spot their skin touches feels like a live wire. Something sparking and threatening flames as each second ticks by. Mason has one hand in their hair, cupping the back of their skull, and the other wrapped around their body with his palm flat between their shoulder blades. Keeping them close. Each time he moans, his lips brush theirs and Sparrow’s heart skips a few beats.

The leg around their waist moves. Urges them closer until they can hardly pull out and it’s more rocking and grinding. They shift the angle of their hips and the broken sound that rumbles from deep within Mason’s chest makes them shiver. Sparrow kisses along his collarbones, the joint of his shoulder. Anywhere they can reach while they thrust in such a way to keep hitting the spot that is making him bow off the bed and clutch them against his body.

Bracing themself on their elbow, arm across his body, they lift up. Just enough to slip their other hand between them. Their fingers wrap around his cock and Mason keens. Something low, something drenched in need and coated in want. Something desperate. He’s hot in their hand, slick and hard. Sparrow is suddenly all too aware of their own desire, bright and blinding. They want every single inch of him, every scar and wound, every sharp edge. It’s overwhelming and they kiss him to stem the flow of words that threaten to crash through their teeth.

He twitches in their hand when they roll their hips again. Simple enough to drag their hand up, twist as they reach the head, and slide back down. Motions they know well enough by now. Mason’s hands slip all over their body, skittering across their skin made slick with sweat. He’s restless. Hips lifting, eyes wide, mouth parted. His touch is achingly tender, soothing. Long sweeping lines up and down their flank as he fucks up into their fist. It takes no time at all for him to go bowstring taut. The muscles in his stomach jump, legs pressing closer, holding them deep, and he comes with a mangled moan.

Sparrow licks a line up his chest to his mouth as he spills over their hand. They kiss his jaw, behind his ear. Little places they’ve learned drive him to distraction. Their hand keeps moving, keeps dragging along the solid heat of him until his hips still. Until he falls against the bed with a punched out sound that digs beneath Sparrow’s ribs. They drop their touch from him, splay their fingers over his lower abdomen, and delight in the ragged exhale that earns them when he looks down. They pull out, mumbling soft reassurances against his shoulder as he groans when the dildo slips from his body.

His eyes flick up to meet theirs. “Fuck.” He cups their cheek. “Are—Did—” Mason growls. Shakes his head before blinking up at them and tugging at the harness. “Off, I want you on my face.”

“Yes,” they say as they sit up between his legs, hands pulling at the straps.

It’s a mess of fingers, though they make sure not to touch anything with the hand they had braced on his stomach. At some point, the towel ended up on the floor. Perfect. Mason dumps everything right on top of it as he mumbles, “Deal with that later.”

His palms are warm on their waist and he lifts them with ease. Sparrow shuffles up his body until their thighs rest on either side of his face. Mason grips their legs. Places a soft, almost chaste kiss to the crease where their leg meets their body.

“You’re fucking soaked.” His voice is muffled against their skin, breath hot as it fans over their body.

Sparrow winds their fingers into his hair. “You gonna do something about it?”

That gets them a sharp nip to their hip bone, a scrape of fang that makes them shudder. They feel him grin before he dips his head and fits his mouth over the very core of them.

Someone moans, Sparrow isn’t sure who. Maybe both of them. His tongue flicks out, drags through them to circle their clit. They hold still, legs shaking with the effort.

Mason squeezes their waist and pulls back enough to say, “Come on bird, ride my face.” before burying his mouth between their legs once more.

They keep one hand in his hair, brace the other against the headboard, and roll their hips, grinding down just a little. He moans, the sound rocketing up their spine so hard that they bend in half with a whine. His hand on their hip helps them keep a rhythm, the other disappears and Sparrow doesn’t know where it’s gone until two fingers thrust into them up to the second knuckle.

“Holy shit, _Mason_.”

Their body shakes, muscles flexing and fighting to keep them upright. His fingers move in time with his mouth, his tongue. Playing them like lyre strings. A babbled sea of _more, please, yes there_ , fall from their lips and when he crooks his fingers just right, they come hard enough that their vision whites out.

Everything returns to them in pieces. The feel of his lips on their thigh, his fingers soft where they press into their back. There’s no noise aside from their unsteady breathing. Sparrow slips away from him. Collapses on their back with an arm over their face. Mason turns his head to rest his nose against their hip. They card their fingers through his hair, scraping their nails over his scalp until his eyes flutter shut.

Eventually, they sit up. He makes an annoyed sound but they shush him as they leave the bed. Sparrow grabs the towel and harness, the other bits and pieces that they definitely don’t want to be strewn about their bedroom floor. They set it all in the bathroom to be actually dealt with later. When they walk back to the bed, Mason is still flat on his back and they drop the damp washcloth right in the middle of his stomach.

“Bird!” He sits up as he shouts, grey eyes narrowing before he rolls them.

“At least it isn’t cold,” they say before pressing a kiss to his temple. “Lie back, let me.”

Mason hums and flops back down. They drag the cloth over his skin, cleaning the mess from his body until he’s melted into a satisfied lump of sated vampire. Eyes shut, lips pulled up in a tiny smile, one hand lazily moving up and down their arm. It’s almost a physical ache when they leave to toss the washcloth with the rest of the stuff, but it’s worth it seeing him all but passed out in the middle of their bed.

Sparrow crawls up next to him, grinning as he automatically lifts an arm to tuck them close to his side. They press their nose to his throat. When he kisses the top of their head, they hum happily. Sweat is drying on their skin, hair stuck to their forehead and Mason is no better off. They push his hair from his face. His eyes flutter open at the gentle touch.

“You good?” His voice is throaty, a little rough.

“Yeah, very.” They shift to press closer against him, fingers dragging through the hair on his chest. “You?”

Mason grins, no, smiles. Wide enough to wrinkle the corners of his eyes. “I’m perfect,” he murmurs the words against their mouth.

A quick kiss, something that lingers despite the swiftness of it.

Sunlight wrapped around a promise.

For an hour from now, for tomorrow, for six months into the future.

For every day ahead of them.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://lvllns.tumblr.com) if y'all wanna yell about vampires


End file.
